


And I'll be the soldier

by kenwayallgetalong



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: F/F, First Aid, Post-Recall, Zarya (mentioned), slight Pharmecy, slight angst (mainly from Jack), team mom mercy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-07
Updated: 2016-08-07
Packaged: 2018-08-07 06:12:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,995
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7703575
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kenwayallgetalong/pseuds/kenwayallgetalong
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The return of an old soldier. </p>
<p>Or, who was the first to figure out who Soldier 76 really was.</p>
            </blockquote>





	And I'll be the soldier

**Author's Note:**

> Title taken from “Cha Ching” by Imagine Dragons:  
> We are all living,  
> 'Til we grow older.  
> You be the worker,  
> And I'll be the soldier.
> 
> Tw for descriptions of violence/wounds. Nothing graphic but bears mentioning.

Being at war for over half your life means you know what comes with it pretty well.

Jack Morrison reflects on this as he crouches behind a crumbling wall in Volskaya Industries, as the sounds of war envelop him. If he closes his eyes behind his tactical visor, he can almost pretend it’s thirty years ago, and he’s Strike Commander Morrison again, not some unknown soldier.

The heavy pulse rifle in his hands, the constant _ack-ack-ack_ of gunfire and pulse munitions, the smell of blood and smoke in the air, adrenaline pulsing hot and hard in his veins.

And Overwatch. His team.

 He risks a quick glance above the wall, then pulls up his rifle and launches a Helix rocket volley towards the entrenched Talon soldiers. Their barricade crumbles with a blue explosion, sending men flying, and the survivors retreating deeper into the factory.

“Nice work 76!” Winston says as he lumbers up beside him. “Their download has been cut off, we just need to root them out.”

“WHAT ARE WE WAITING FOR THEN?” Reinhardt roars, brandishing his hammer as he charges forward, bringing up his shield as they move through the courtyard. “Get behind me!”

“Roger that big guy!” Tracer’s voice peals, blinking from nowhere to behind him, pistols at the ready. “76, flank to the left side.” Winston commands. “Tracer, take the right. I’ll take point with Reinhardt and Mercy.”

Jack’s head shoots up from reloading his pulse rifle. _Mercy?_

She appears suddenly, descending from the sky in a beautiful golden streak, spinning her Caduceus staff in her hands. “Roger that Winston.” She smiles.

_Speak of the devil. Or rather, angel._

“Sorry I’m late.” She turns briefly to Jack. “Dr Ziegler, combat medic.” She smiles, her eyes betraying little. “Soldier 76.” Jack salutes briefly, then turns to follow the rest of the team moving deeper into the factory, breaking left just as the survivors begin their defense. A small smile quirks Mercy’s lips for a moment, before she flies after the others.

Jack moves carefully through the darker left side of the factory, rifle ready, as he hears the pulse rounds slam into Reinhardt’s barrier and Winston’s roar from off to his right. He moves up a low set of stairs and finds some of the Talon survivors, moved ahead of their defenses to take on the attackers. _Rookie mistake._ He thinks, as he readies another Helix volley to take them down.

Reinhardt roars as the soldiers are flung away like ragdolls. “AMAZING WORK MY FRIEND!” Jack merely nods to him, then turns to move deeper into the factory with them.

Suddenly, the doors ahead of him hiss open, revealing the Talon defenses, A hail of gunfire greets him, as he rolls quickly out of the way, behind cover, leaning against the doorway. Tracer quickly shelters next to him, just as a rocket streaks past him, inches from his face. He hears a roar, and spots Winston falling, the armour on his left arm cracked and quickly reddening from the impact.

“I’ve got him!” Mercy says, flying over and dragging him behind cover.

“Keep moving.” Jack growls to Tracer, who nods quickly and blinks away _._

 He suddenly hears a _whoosh_ from near the entrance of the factory. “Pharah reporting.” Says the low, smoky voice on the comms. “Need air support?” A blue blur shoots past, landing just behind Reinhardt, who stands in the doorway, soaking up the bullets with his shield.

“Let’s move!” Jack shouts, nodding to Pharah. Reinhardt moves forward, Pharah sticking close behind him. Jack notices the blur streak of light flit through the Talon defenses, then the splash of scarlet, and Tracer’s yelp of pain. The young Brit quickly recalls next to Jack, and slumps on the cold steel floor.

“Bugger.” She grimaces, hands wrapped over the wound in her right thigh, blood spurting between her fingers. “Hey.” Jack drops down beside her, slinging his pulse rifle over his back and reaching into his jacket. “Look at me.” He commands, snapping his fingers in Tracer’s face. Her eyes are unfocused behind her bright orange goggles.

“Tracer!” he shouts, pulling out a biotic emitter from his jacket. “Let’s get you stabilised.” He says, slamming the emitter down next to her.

“What the ‘ells that?” Tracer asks, just as it begins to work. “Oh, bloody hell.” She says in relief, resting her head back against the wall as the emitter begins to knit her flesh back together, whilst pumping morphine into her system.

“You alive?” Jack asks as he shoulders his rifle again. Tracer grins. “And kicking!” she says, as Jack pulls her to her feet. They fall in behind Reinhardt and Pharah, just as Mercy and Winston join up with them again.

“Caught up?” Pharah grins at them for a moment, and Jack almost smiles. “Ready?” Reinhardt asks. “Affirmative.” Pharah responds. “Get to cover!” she yells.

The others follow suit as Pharah boosts into the air, and coils up briefly. “Rocket barrage, incoming!” she shouts, hundreds of tiny micro missiles shooting out of her Raptora armour into the entrenched Talon soldiers below.

Shrapnel flies past them as Jack presses himself into the wall, his arm held up to shield his face. “THAT’S HOW IT’S DONE!” Reinhardt roars, hoisting his hammer up in salute as Pharah descends. Mercy flies over to her, wings spread.

“You’ve been injured.” Mercy clucks as Pharah removes her helmet. He can see the blood at the base of her neck. Pharah shrugs. “One of them got a lucky shot off. I’m fine.” Mercy’s eyes narrow. “Sit.” She growls, prepping her Caduceus staff.

Winston stands slightly away, hand to his comm. “Copy that Captain Zaryanova. Russian Defense Forces are moving in to retake the factory.” He says. “We need to disappear. Tracer, can you bring the transport around?”

Tracer favours him with a quick salute. “Sure thing love!” she says, blinking away.

Jack glances at the remaining members of the team. Mercy is busy patching up Pharah, who has a look of resigned acceptance on her face, while Reinhardt and Winston discuss together, heads bowed. Picking up his rifle, Jack slips away and moves around the corner. Leaning against the wall, he drops his rifle and grimaces, holding his hands against his abdomen. His gloves come away stained with blood. _Dammit._ Must’ve been shrapnel from Pharah’s barrage, He flexes his wrist, and feels the pull of more shrapnel peppered into his forearm. He sighs, and pulls off his jacket, bare to the cold of Volskaya but for his thermal undershirt.

He reaches into his jacket for his first aid kit and another emitter, just as he hears the click of heels on concrete. _Dr Ziegler._ “You’re hurt.” She says, leaning her Caduceus staff against the wall.

“It’s nothing.” Jack growls, turning away from her. “I’ll be the judge of that.” She says, grabbing his arm. Her hands feel cool and soft on his rough, bloody skin.

“Anything else?” she asks. Jack grimaces, and lifts up his shirt, showing the hole in his left abdomen. “Sit.” She says sharply, as he peels the shirt off his back., and she reaches for the Caduceus staff. “No lingering fragments or muscle damage.” She says as she checks the wound.

“We’ll be able to seal you up good as new.” The Caduceus stream hits the tender area and Jack sucks in a tight breath as the nanobots knit his flesh back together. Mercy checks the wounds on his forearm, wiping them clean with an antisceptic wipe and carefully wrapping a bandage around his arm.

“ _Fertig.”_ She says, tossing the wipe and tying off the bandage. She checks his abdomen, and, satisfied, takes the Caduceus staff back while Jack pulls his shirt and jacket back on.

“And for heavens sake don’t do something like that again.” Mercy snaps. “You’re new to Overwatch so let me give you some advice; we’re a team, so don’t go trying to be a lone wolf.”

Jack bites back a smile as he remembers her delivering this lecture to countless Overwatch recruits. “Ride’s here loves!” Tracer says over the comms, bringing the transport around and letting the ramp down .“Thanks.” He says as he picks the pulse rifle back up, turning to go.

“No problem…” Mercy says.

“…Jack.”

He freezes, blood turning to ice in his veins. His world spins. Fear grips him worse then the Volskaya cold has. He turns, his visor an angry red line across his visor. Mercy merely smiles coyly, then activates her wings and flits into the waiting transport. Jack huffs under his breath and follows suit.

 - 

The team’s drained from their fight, and as soon as the transport is cruising, they all slump in the hold. After stowing his rifle, Jack peels off his jacket and climbs the stairs up to the cockpit, where Tracer’s piloting them back to the Watchpoint.

“How far out are we?” he asks, leaning against a spare seat.

“Five hours?” Tracer shrugs.

“Want me to take over?” he asks. Tracer looks up at him. “I know how to fly.” He continues.

“I’m fine.” Tracer says, though her statement loses some impact when she yawns hugely through it.

“C’mon.” Jack says. “I’ll give you a shout if I need.” Tracer mutters under her breath as she climbs back down the stairs. Her snores echo up within a minute. Jack slumps in the vacated pilot’s seat and runs a hand through his thin white hair. He hears the click of heels come up the steps as Angela comes up to the cockpit, a cup of coffee in each hand.

“Thanks.” He mutters, sipping at it one-handed. Angela curls up in the co-pilot’s seat, her legs tucked beneath her, and sips her own coffee. Jack grips the controls hard, angry at her presence and her knowing his secret.

Angry at himself for keeping it.

 They sit in silence for a while, both waiting for the other to speak. Angela breaks it first.

“I’d heard a few things. Your crusade across the US. Fighting injustice and evil.” She smiles slightly.

“Did you know in Zurich?” Jack growls, keeping his eyes fixed on the dark sky in front of him.

“No.” she admits. “Only now. You might be older but you still fight just like you did ten years ago.”

“The whole world thought I was dead.” Jack says.

“You know what they say, Jack.” Angela smiles. “Heroes never die.”

“I’m not a hero Angela.” He snaps. “Not anymore. That was Jack Morrison.”

“People still look up to Jack Morrison.” Angela counters. “People need heroes.” “That’s what Overwatch is.” Jack snarls. “Inspiring courage, hope. I’m not that anymore.”

Angela looks at him over the rim of her mug for a long moment.

“Then why are you here?”

The cockpit lapses back into silence as she sips her coffee, watching the masked soldier pilot them home. Jack sighs.

“Are you gonna tell them?” he asks, nodding into the hold where all the Overwatch agents are asleep, Tracer sprawled across four seats, limbs splayed everywhere. Pharah lying on her back, ramrod straight. Reinhardt slumped face down on the floor. Winston curled up in a corner.

“You can tell them.” She says, finishing her coffee and standing, taking his barely-touched cup back. “When you’re ready.” She turns to go.

“Wait.” Jack chokes out. She pauses at the top of the stairs. Jack flicks the transport onto autopilot and turns in his chair, reaching up to his visor with both hands.

“Jack.” She says, putting out her free hand. “It’s okay. I know it’s you.” Relief floods through him.

“Thanks.” He manages, honestly this time, not as Soldier 76. Maybe somewhere closer to Jack Morrison.

 Angela smiles and walks back down into the hold, leaving Jack alone in the cockpit. He turns back to the controls and retakes them, glancing at his reflection in the glass. And the words of the old Overwatch recruitment drives comes back to him:

  _The world could always use more heroes._

**Author's Note:**

> Mercy's advice to Jack also applies to any new Overwatch players (speaking as a support main).


End file.
